What If
by TheImperious
Summary: What if there was only one truth? What if there was only one lie? What if it were really that simple?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's**** Notes: **

**Be warned, this short story contains a variation of Iambic Pentameter in which the first and fifth ****syllables are accented differently the the rest of the text.**

**I'd also like to offer a special thanks to fellow authors 'AlwaysBetOnVoid' and 'Disciple of Ember' for articulating and isnpiring this story's theme.**

* * *

What If

The Stormbird shuttered as dull thuds exploded outside. Slaves scampered to and fro in a general panic devoid of real purpose. In the belly of the ship sat only a single Chaos Marine. Across from him, naked and in chains, sat one Imperial Marine.

"You shall accomplish nothing with my capture. The Ultramarines will destroy you serpent." The captured Imperial Marine was serene.

The Chaos Marine glared at the prisoner through his snarling dragon helmet. He spoke with a voice like far away thunder. Waves of ghostly power seemed to ripple through the air as the traitor marine whispered.

_"All things in time brother. Some day_

_death, gruesome and terrible, shall_

_come for me. But you, dear brother,_

_must suffer the crushing pain of_

_Imperial extortion for_

_all your days. When my end comes, more_

_good will have been brought through me then_

_you can know. Your eyes are shut tight."_

The champion of Ultramar was not intimidated. He did not listen to the blasphemer's words. This traitor marine could take all the emerald dragons on his armor and ram them up his back side.

"You are not but a treacherous snake. I command you by the might of the Imperium, release me or slay me."

_"Imperial might is built on_

_Death. Its people, led before the_

_alter of war, sacrificed and_

_slain by billions every day. The_

_Emperor is dead. His people_

_die to feed this Imperial_

_Tulpa. He who should have been our_

_savior, is now un-life in flesh."_

"I cannot hear your serpent tongue Alpha Legion. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the daemon…"

_"Son of the one Guilliman, why_

_prostrate yourself? Ingratitude,_

_relegation, death are the few_

_rewards you'll be given. And no_

_better shall the Galaxy be,_

_all your sound and fury feeds the_

_daemons you wage fruitless war with._

_Carnage begets Chaos you fool."_

The Stormbird trembled. A terrible grinding screech pierced the ears. Something was wrong.

_BOOM!_

Blackness.

The Ultramarine's eyes snapped open. His ears rang. His enemy was nowhere to be seen. An open street lay before him. Down the road lie half of the burning wreckage of the ancient Stormbird transport. Sky scrapers rose all around and the sounds of gunfire rang from nearby. He was still strapped in the chair and his feet dangled over the pavement.

The Ultramarine had a hundred thoughts in his mind. But first things first, he found his bindings were malfunctioning. With a huff he ripped one free. The herculean warrior sprung from his chair. He was alive and he had a duty to uphold. He had to find the relic. _What if it was gone? _Then he would scour this world until he found it. His bare feet stomped through the listing wreckage.

The Ultra crushed the life out of a dazed slave without a second thought. He needed to find his equipment. The relic had to be here somewhere. There was nothing in the galaxy that matter more at the moment.

There. His things were lying neatly, undisturbed atop a shine. _Shrine? _Concern gripped at him. He reached up for the holy banner of the fifth company, but recoiled when he saw what had been done to it. Blood. The sacred battle standard of the Ultramarines fifth company had been soaked with foul and tainted blood. _Desecrated. How dare they_. Such a sacrilege made him seethe. Incapable of words, he reached for his helmet. But inside, it too was slick with dark crimson blood. Fine, he had no time to waist making all his armor pure once again. He snatched up his power sword and carefully pulled the fifth company banner from the dark alter.

The Ultra stepped out into the streets. The sounds of war were everywhere. Yells, booms, and rat-ta-ta filled the air with discord. Mortal men cloaked in rags and dirt, were beginning to fill the road. Chaos worshipers, perhaps three score.

From the other half of the flaming wreckage the serpent arose. With a sinister blade held before him, the Alpha Legionnaire rallied the heretics around him. The crowd cheered for their master. They threw gold, flowers, bones and even themselves before the unholy marine's feet. The traitor did not acknowledge their offerings. He had his eyes set on the Ultramarine.

_What if there were too many?_ Then he would overcome them all or die well. The lone Ultramarine unfurled the fifth company battle standard. Its fields of noble blue were still darkened with the blood of the wicked. _What if it was forever stained? _No, the brilliant honor of the Ultramarines could not be sullied by merely bleeding upon it.

Footsteps came racing up behind the defiant marine. Six men stormed through the pieces of the fallen Strombird. Gas masks, black helmets, and grey coats. These were the warriors of Krieg, fellow Imperials.

"Lord Ultramarine, it would be a privilege to fight and die beside you!" One soldier barked though his mask.

The marine did not acknowledge them. These Death Troopers were not asking for his permission, they were telling him they had come into the street to die. The grey coats stood tall, shoulder to shoulder with one another. The mob of heretics began to draw near.

"Affix bayonets!" The Death Troopers acted as one.

_Death Trooper._ The Ultra looked across the field to legionnaire wearing the mask of the Hydra. _Death. _The venom in the serpent's words turned sour and the Ultramarine banished the thoughts from his mind. Death was what the Emperor demanded. _What if my enemies do not die this day?_ Then the Emperor shall have a martyr.

Lasguns kicked like mules in the hands of the Death Troopers. They poured a torrent of laser fire into the encroaching mob. But the cultists charged unhindered. Neither their dead nor the flaming Stormbird derby could slow down the crowd. The Alpha Marine stalked forward in their midst.

The Ultramarine stepped between the Death troopers. Wild bullets from the cultist whizzed by. Fearlessly the troopers began to march forward in the Ultra's tremendous shadow.

"Death need not be for us this day! The Emperor asks that we are better! Better than our enemies! Better than our vices! Better than fear! So give me your valor! Bring to me all your fortitude! Show me that you are better guardsmen of Krieg! "

The seven imperials began to gallop with bayonets forward at the swarm of heretical zealots. The tide of yellow teeth, blood shot eyes, and greasy hands was almost upon them. The noble standard of the fifth company curled in the breeze.

"Cherish this moment of life! For on this day you fight beside Ultamar!"

The Imperials crashed into the daemon worshipers. They shot, stabbed, slashed and smashed a dozen heretics in the blink of an eye. With unparallel will and skill the Death Troopers fought through the melee. But the mob swallowed them up. One by one they succumb to the weight of numbers. A gun shot, a club, brutal hands around the neck.

The last Death Trooper fought on with a primed grenade clutched in one hand. His savage knife flashed and three heretics dropped dead at his feet. But a pair of hands brought a heavy rock smashing into his back. The grenade rolled from his fingertips.

_BOOM!_

Alone, the Ultramarine fought on. His humming blade eviscerated men two at a time. The flag danced as he whirled through the ranks of the enemy. He swept a foot and crushed a blasphemer with the haft of sacred battle standard.

Almost too late the Ultra saw a blow coming, not for him, but for the flag. He ripped the banner aside to throw himself in front of the strike. A dull hook rent a gash across his side.

The hoard saw his act of selflessness. They began to ignore the Space Marine to cut at his twirling flag. They would not touch it while he lived. The fearsome son of Guilliman baited them with his back turned. Every heretic that took so much as a single step towards the banner of the fifth company was struck dead by the Ultramarine's lightning quick blade. Steaming crimson covered him from head to toe, but his retribution remained clean. He would kill them all.

The mob parted and the Alpha Legionnaire stepped before the Imperial. The blood covered Ultra stood braced with his gore soaked banner beside him. This was the moment. Here and now he would strike at least one head from this Hydra. _But what if he wasn't strong enough? Quick enough?_ He dismissed the notion. His fate was in his own hands. He would prove without a doubt that he was better.

"You cannot stand against righteousness wicked serpent. Fall upon your sword and repent."

_"Why? Must it be death dear brother?_

_You have only death in your stone_

_heart. You shut out truth from your cold_

_soul. But I know you have had a_

_doubt. Yes, I know doubt gnaws at you._

_Even now it poisons your mind._

_Chaos marks you. Come and seek more_

_death my morbid friend, just once more."_

The Ultramarine shut off his ears. The words no longer mattered. Indeed, one of them was to die, and the gene-son of Guilliman intended to do his legacy proud.

The Chaos Hydra circled the stoic warrior of Ultramar. His warp-touched power sword cut a shallow grove in the pavement. There was no sign of aggression. No murmurs from the mob. There was just the grinding hum of the blade.

The Ultramarine stood still. The Alpha Legionnaire wanted him to strike first. Was the enemy really going to walk a complete circle? _The circle._ Suspicious the Ultra look to the ground. _What if it was a trick? Witch craft or black magic?_ He had to attack first.

The Imperial sword flashed in an arch. The serpent darted and the blade whiffed by him. He kept dragging his sword along the ground. The circle really was the threat. The Ultramarine flung his banner before him to conceal himself. Then he dashed through it. He faked a slash and instead locked the hilt of his blade in the collar of the Chaos Marine. With a yank the Ultramarine pulled the serpent into the circle with him.

Now the Hydra lashed out. The Ultra stood defiantly over the missing piece of the circle. And the Alpha could not find a way to move him. Their swords flashed as they each parried one another, blow for blow.

_KABOOM!_

Smoldering Stormbird wreckage was blasted out of the street. Imperial tanks came rolling through the smoke. The sound of a marching battalion came swiftly behind. _Clap-clap-clap_. More of the ever relentless Death Koprs of Krieg stomped into the fray.

_KABOOM!_ Heretics burst into clouds of gore and the crowd flew to a panic.

The Ultramarine's eyes looked away for half a moment. The Chaos Hydra slashed at the sacred banner. Almost too late again, the Ultra pulled the flag away from danger and put himself in the way. But instead of a blade cutting through his flesh, a hand wrapped around his shoulder. The heretic pulled him sideways. Off balance he staggered back and the Chaos Marine leapt by him. In one graceful stroke the last line of the circle was cut into the pavement, but his back was turned. The Ultramarine thrust out with his blade. His power sword sunk to the hilt.

The Alpha Legionnaire stumbled. He looked down at the glowing sword point protruding from his chest. The Ultra spun him about and shoved him into the circle. With the blade still lodged in him, the Hydra marine looked to his opponent. He raised an open hand, a salute.

_KABOOM!_

Imperial cannons blasted the scurrying mob. There was a flash. The Ultramarine shielded the flag from the rolling dust. He kept his eyes wide open and ready to finish the fight. But as the cloud of smoke blew past he saw the serpent was crumpled on the ground.

_No_, the Alpha's armor lay in a pile, but it was empty. The Legionnaire was gone. The steaming circle was empty. The Ultramarine looked all around. The heretics were fleeing and the Imperials were butchering everyone left in street. But the serpent was nowhere to be found.

Cautiously, the Ultra stepped into the circle. He pulled his sword free of the dragon armor. His battle standard billowed at his side. It didn't feel like a victory.

The Alpha had to be dead. _What if he is not?_ _What more could he have intended?_ The Ultra looked to the flag, it was still stained. _What if its blood magic? What if the enemy is still waiting for another opportune moment?_ He sifted through the foul words the serpent had spoken in search of some veiled threat. Then he remembered doubt. The Ultramarine looked to his own blood stained hands. _What if…_

**Fin**


	2. Chapter 2

**To Question is to Doubt**

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The field had been idyllic when the sun first rose. Perfect drops of dew had gleaned in the morning light. Now the grass was slick with blood. Too many Ultramarines lay dead. Thousands of good Imperials had died this morning. With them lay hundreds of Tau warriors, tanks, and battle suits. Not even the noonday sun could warm the cold valley breeze.

The battered Standard Bearer of the Ultramarines fifth company climbed atop an alien battle suit. His flag curled in the chilling breeze. He pried a plate of metal from the machine. Smoke billowed out and a xeno coughed. The alien held up a blue hand to yield. The Ultra ran his sword into the alien. It was done.

The Ultra looked out to the valley. No one was left. There was death as far as the eye could see. _Death_. The war had begun with a peace summit massacre. And after a decade of fighting, _Death. _The whispers of the serpent from ages before crept into his ear again. With a snarl he banished the thought.

It was becoming harder. The Ultra had even begun to see the Hydra in his dreams. But there was no room for such memories. He looked to the holy fifth company banner at his side. Its blue majesty recalled all the triumphs of the fifth company. It should have invoked pride and reverence. But today, the Imperial champion felt anger. He had reclaimed the banner and slew the wicked serpent that had stolen it. But he had confessed his shame, and all of Ultramar knew that the banner had been baptized in unholy blood. It had been cleansed. But now, looking to the flag gave him no comfort. And the poisoned words of the Alpha Legionnaire still stung in his ear.

There was movement, rustling, and clanks. The Ultra whirled around, blade at the ready. A fallen Tau suite rolled over. From beneath it a man in black staggered to his feet. The Ultra leapt to aid the survivor, but the man waved him away.

The man in black wore the badge of the Inquisition. This old man leaned on his staff. His eyes were hollow and the smell of magic hung around him, a psyker.

"Victory." The psyker spit blood and glared out over the field.

"For today. But how many more will we sacrifice when the enemy returns tomorrow?" The Standard Bearer did not mean to ask the question aloud.

The blind psyker looked up at the giant Ultra with a sneer. "Oh? How tenuous a peace would you accept? Do you not see the legions they send to fight us at every turn? Death is the only way to break their resolve. War is the inevitable reality."

"As is death. Are we so eager to have more of it?" He couldn't stop his mouth from opening.

"Yes, as the Emperor demands. Death to the xeno, death to the mutant, death to the heretic."

"And are psykers not a product of mutation? What right have you to condemn so many to death." _Why would I say such a thing?_

The old man's liver spots wrinkled together. "I do not condemn, I obey. Does your contrary melancholy have a point? Or perhaps…"

The winds became still. Then the Standard Bearer felt something. Icy fingertips probing his mind, his at picking thoughts. Anger flashed, _How dare you witch!_ He tried to use his anger and discipline to shield his wounded conviction. But the cold needles prodded deeper, until it found his worry.

"You question. You doubt." Blood dripped from the psyker's nose. "Fear."

"Away from me!" _Witch! Mutant! Abomination!_

Cold invisible fingers sunk even deeper into the Standard Bearer's thoughts. They sifted through memories and emotions, until they found the buried core of uncertainty. The Serpent.

"Poisoned."

"You are not my judge! Out of my mind!" The Standard Bearer shoved the man.

Winded, the psyker caught himself on his staff. Holding out the seal of the Inquisition he bellowed, "By the might of the god-Emperor I command you, repent or condemn yourself to death!"

"Death is everywhere! Do you not see it!? What if peace were a victory!? Why always death!?"

There was no hesitation. The man in black struck out with his staff. In the nick of time the Standard Bearer turned the blow aside. The magic coursing though the wood ripped through his pauldron. _Death_, there was no longer any choice. Anger and resentment bubbled inside the Ultra. With the banner of the fifth company at his side, the champion slashed at the psyker. The Ulramarine's blade whiffed through the empty air.

The blind old man was faster then he should have been, much faster. Magic swirled around him as he dodged like a fickle wind. A quick thwack to the wrist sent the Standard Bearer's sword flying off into the grass. The staff thumped him in the shoulder, and then thumped him in the knee. The champion stumbled and clung to the banner.

The Imperial psyker's empty eyes began to glow. His breath became like a mist. Frost began to build along his beard and brow. "Yield blasphemer! Fear for your soul!"

"Ultramarines know no fear!"

The psyker sucked in a huge gulp of air. With gaunt cheeks he blew a storm of ice from his lips. The doubting champion stepped in front of the banner. Slivers of frosty magic cut his face. The ice clung to him and stiffened his armor. The psyker blew and blew until the champion could not move. When he was done he huffed regaining his breath.

"Death for you traitor. Emperor have mercy on your soul." The old man in black raised his glowing staff.

_Death is everywhere! What if peace were a victory? Why always death?_

The Ultra pulled against the ice. It cracked, splintered, then shattered. As the psyker's staff came singing down, the marine broke free. The Ultra swung an icy fist and cracked the old man in the nose. The Inquisitor dropped to the earth, stone dead.

**_Fin_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Small minds are easily filled with faith.**

* * *

The banner of the Ultramarines fifth company was left behind. The Champion had lost himself. Despair nearly claimed his mind. He had fled. In the ages of his exodus he journeyed into unholy land. The errant champion strayed into the den of all his nightmares. Yet, he had not been devoured. Amongst all his horrors the champion found himself again. He had found new purpose. And then, he had found a book.

"Chaos is sin, corporeal

made! Let us not forget who we

are. For we are men, and fate is

ours. We today will shape this world.

Your sorrowful resolve will make

better all the tomorrows you

promise to your sons. From this deed,

most evil, we shape all our hopes."

Gingerly the champion closed the ancient tome. He looked up to the congregation. Twenty men and women stood in science, huddled together in their secret place far down below the world. The champion knew them all by name. He knew the names of their families. He knew their triumphs and their tragedies to the last detail. They were his flock.

The congregation was dressed for war. _Death_. The champion had told them all of the creatures of nightmare. He had told them of the endless holy wars, of the Imperium's ironic cruelty. And then he told them of the Emperor, the true Emperor. He told his flock of an aspiration for a paradise worth fighting for.

"Give not praise to false gods. Make your

spirit strong, yield nothing to false

prophets, they will take your wit and

twist it into thoughtless sin. Heed

not even my own counsel, For

you must choose this path soberly

children. It is martyrdom."

_Death._

The Champion spoke verse from memory. These acolytes, these followers, his children, hung on his every word. They had been lied to all their lives. So the champion had given them another lie to believe in. He told himself these were sweet lies, filled with kindness. But he could not deceive himself. There was no compromise in his mind any longer. All the heretical lies were necessary to destroy the Imperium's evil. He had made this congregation into the zealots he needed them to be. And the time had come. _Death. _

The champion waved his hand. His acolytes came before him one at a time with bowed heads. He placed a kiss atop each of them. A boy approached him, sobbing.

"Why must you shed tears young child?

Our day has now come, and all the

falsities of Imperial

rule are near their end. Our one and

true Emperor smiles on both

you and I. So rejoice and be

glad to do such noble works. For

strife shall yield a true might in you."

"Forgive me, I am with fear that cripples me… I fear for my soul in these deeds…"

"Daemons foul and terrible will

Feast upon your soul. But this is

selflessness that I ask of you.

Child in your actions this day

you can help us end suffering.

Humanity needs saviors son.

You must be a savior. And know,

we shall meet in another life."

_Lies._

The child hugged his waist. The champion squeezed the boy's shoulder. The boy released his embrace and the champion ushered him onward. The youth ran drying his eyes. Time was growing short, and the child had far to go.

The champion was alone with his thoughts. Lies, suffering, sacrifice, death. His life was the same as it had been before. And yet everything had changed. The Emperor was dead, and his specter was drinking humanity's soul. The revelation had nearly been too much to bear. But all his doubts had been shattered. There was nothing left in him but resolve.

The champion placed the book of lies in his robes. It hung on his belt next to his vortex grenade. With both hands he lowered the helm of the hydra over his head. He then coldly reached for the wall to collect his new banner.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
